First Lohan, now Trump.

Or should I say, Trumpberg? Trumpstein? Schwartztrump?

Ivanka Trump has sought out a rabbi to take her on her journey to Judaism. Why does she want to be a Jew? Why not? We are wonderful people: kind, generous, family oriented, and we know how to eat. And, hello, have you ever had matzoh ball soup? Yeah, that’s all us.

Oh, and she is also in love with some Jewish guy who won’t marry her unless she too celebrates Hanukkah, Yom Kippur and all that jazz.

I think it is wonderful that Ivanka has found love (and a real estate empire) in Jared Kushner, but the whole thing makes me wonder just how far women should go to be with the guy they love. I used to get sh*t from my friends for changing my hair/music selection/weekend plans for the guys I was with, so I can only imagine how they’d feel if I changed my entire belief system.

I know that love is a wondeful thing, that it is hard to find, and that we should hold onto the one we got, but there has to be a line, right?

Would you convert for someone you love?

[Photo courtesy of Gawker.]

Basically, I ran out of things to eat.

Yeah, yeah, it shouldn’t be that hard. But somehow nothing seems quite satisfying enough, quite interesting enough when I have to think so hard about my food.

I am not the kind of girl who diets. In fact, I’ve never been on a diet in my entire life (excluding this “Passover diet” that I go on every year for a week). And I’ll tell you, I don’t like it. If I had to be so careful about what I ate all the time, I would definitely be a much bigger bitch.

Which is really making me a better person. Because now when someone is rude to me on the train, I can think, “oh, they must be on a diet,” and let it go. Thanks, Passover!

In any event, the last couple of days were annoying. I missed out on free Beard Papa cream puffs, on free cookies, on going out to (not free, but still) pizza with friends, etc. etc.

I ate Pinkberry frozen yogurt for lunch one day when I was in a rush and couldn’t think of anything else that was fast.

I was not always nice to my boyfriend. Read More »

Basically, I’m hungry and fatigued. And I want to eat bread.

I wake up and I eat matzoh.

Then I go about my daily day (see?! I can’t even think of a better way to say this!) and find something I can eat for lunch (surprisingly difficult even in lower manhattan).

Then I’m cranky at people until dinner, at which point I am tired of trying to think of what to eat and end up having a fudgesicle.

Actually, I think I might be losing weight, but only because eating has become so calculated and joyless that it’s not even worth it.

I mean, this is not a big deal. I can’t have bread. To channel my grandmother for a moment, this should be the worst thing that happens to me. Read More »

And oh, what a Day 2 it was.

Well, first of all, last night I went to my parents’ house for a Seder. We went through our Maxwell House Haggadahs like I go through a fresh, steaming cup of Maxwell House coffee.

…Anyway.

I asked my father what the correct pronunciation of “Haggadah” was, because a friend of mine says it “ha-GAH-dah” whereas I have always heard it as “huh-GUH-duh.” I was told that the first way is Hebrew, the second is Yiddish. Go fig. My fam-o is full of the Yiddish. The Hebrew, not so much.

Okay, this no bread thing is making me punchy. Let’s move on to today: Read More »

According to CNN.com, a woman named Misha Defonseca recently admitted that she fabricated nearly all the content from a “memoir” she wrote of her childhood as a Jew during the Holocaust.

The book, Misha: A Memoire of the Holocaust Years, claims that the author spent four years as a child wandering the European wilderness and being raised by wolves.

Would you believe that? Yeah, I didn’t think so.

The author, who has further admitted that her name is not actually Misha Defonseca but Monique De Wael, said that the book was “not actually reality, but my reality.”

I’m going to refrain from making fun of her because it’s clear that the woman needs professional help, but the point is that there’s no excuse for even disturbed people to make up stories about their lives and then market them as “memoirs.” Read More »